


Where You Fit Perfectly

by ashes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-08
Updated: 2011-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:03:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes/pseuds/ashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He can smell Dean, like sweat and whiskey and earth – so many scents that Castiel can’t place them all, even if he spent an eternity trying. He buries his face in crook of Dean’s neck and shoulder and tasting, his tongue along the plane of smooth flesh. Dean’s hand tightens in his hair. “But I don’t know what to do.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Where You Fit Perfectly

**Author's Note:**

> The most minor of spoilers for 6x10 -- and none of it plot relevant. You might not even notice.
> 
> I wrote this because I told Tumblr I would write tie porn and it would be posted that night. REGRET. I forgot that I'm terrible at writing porn; I'm all clinical words and 12-year-old boy giggles at the work "cock." But I went for it all the same -- though this became a bit less tie porn than I originally intended. It tended toward virgin porn. I don't even know.
> 
> For suspension of disbelief purposes: apparently everyone goes commando and Dean is always prepared. >_>;;

Dean yanks Castiel in by his tie, their first kiss awkward and needy as Castiel stumbles back into the wall. There’s this one second where he isn’t sure what _exactly_ is happening – but then he remembers the pizza man and the demon girl and accedes, tilting just so into the kiss. Dean’s has a hand on the back of his head, the other holding tight the tie. 

“Dean,” he breathes as Dean grinds their hips together. His breath hitches as his body aches and tingles. “I don’t – ”

In a moment Dean leans back, his face etched in concern – though he’s still holding on tight to Castiel’s tie. “Don’t what? I can stop – ”

“No,” Castiel replies, frowning as he leans back in. He can smell Dean, like sweat and whiskey and earth – so many scents that Castiel can’t place them all, even if he spent an eternity trying. He buries his face in crook of Dean’s neck and shoulder and tasting, his tongue along the plane of smooth flesh. Dean’s hand tightens in his hair. “But I don’t know what to do.”

“Leave it to me,” Dean says – he’s backing toward the armchair, bring Castiel along by his tie. “Let me handle this.” He stops, pulls Castiel back in before finally dropping the tie, instead busying his hands with shoving Castiel’s overcoat and suit jacket away. Their kiss is all frantically clashing tongues and knocking teeth, as though every sexual frustration of the past two years can be poured into one kiss. Dean is reaching between them to snap Castiel’s trousers open, reaching his hands beneath the waist and shove them down. Dean falls back on the chair, smirking as he surveys Castiel standing there, oxford shirt and loose tie – hair tousled, cock erect, skin flushed. “Gotta admit – s’damn fine view.”

“I – thank you.” Castiel tilts his head. “What do I – ”

“ _Relax_. Stay there a minute.” Dean licks his lips and reaches down to undo his jeans, sliding them off without grandeur – pulls a small bottle out of his pocket before relaxing back on the chair. He pops the lid with one hand, and once again Castiel finds himself in mind of the babysitter and the pizza man – remembers Dean awkwardly trying to explain it later, using words like _intercourse_ and _foreplay_ and _acting_ , and Castiel makes the connections, realizes that this is much more real. Dean is running a slick hand over his own erection, eyes falling closed, and Castiel’s body responds in turn – unfamiliar and pleasant as his mouth falls open and his breath quickens. “C’mere,” Dean says, looking up at him with what Castiel recognizes as _lust_. “Come on.”

Castiel lets Dean guide him, far enough back that Dean can loosen his tie further, undo the first couple buttons of his shirt and nuzzle is collar bone, nipping delicate flesh – Castiel’s shoulders roll and his hips jerk, their cocks brushing. 

“Fuck,Cas,” Dean groans against his chest, hands traveling his back and gripping his ass tight. “Shit, I want – can I – “

Castiel finds himself growling, “ _Yes,_ anything, yes,” hips bucking again just trying to catch more of Dean against him, more friction.

“It’s okay,” Dean says, his voice so level and determined that he has to be trying hard to keep it that way. “I mean, we can take this slow – ”

“I’m not ignorant to the details. I _want_ it.” He practically purrs as Dean is pressing slick fingers _inside_ him. It’s a hard ache that runs straight to his groin and leaves him panting, his forehead dropped against Dean’s as he tries to relax. He slides forward, grinds against Dean and moans as their cocks slide together. The heat builds, burns in his gut and he needs more, needs _Dean_ so completely that it overwhelms now. “ _Now_ , Dean.” And Dean responds, pulling back and digging his fingers deep into the skin of Castiel’s hips – guiding him down, lining them up and pressing gently.

“Whenever you’d ready." Castiel braces himself, hands on the chair on either side of Dean’s shoulders and goes for it, his whole body aching and ready.

It’s almost too much at first; Castiel’s fingers break through the fabric of the chair and almost draws blood from his lip, but it’s hot and slick and perfect – Dean is swearing under his breath beneath him, hands splayed against Castiel’s side like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Castiel keeps going, sliding down until he’s full and Dean’s hips are moving almost imperceptibility, just enough that Castiel’s tosses his head back, raises up. 

With a hand on his lower back and another wrapped around his tie, Dean yanks him back close and holds him there as he lets himself go, each movement harder and more confident as Castiel’s reserve breaks and babbles through the pleasure, unsure of what to say or how to feel other that pain-tinged ecstasy of being fucked by Dean.

Moving in time, Castiel can feel it coiling in his stomach, something ready to break – “ _Dean_ ,” he damn near loses his mind, in love with every visceral sensation of their flesh, of sweat and burning lungs and rigid cocks, and he’s panting, “Don’t stop, please, I don’t – I can’t – oh!”

It’s like riding the shock-waves of an explosion, and Dean follows, biting back a shout and yanking Castiel hard down against him. For a moment the sound is gone, the room silent save the sound of their ragged pants, and Dean is holding Castiel closer still, an arm hooked around his waist as he struggles to catch his breath.

**Author's Note:**

> Random: [the original version](http://scatteringashes.tumblr.com/post/5298987290/dean-castiel-pwp-seriously-pwp) included "batman'd" as verb -- it was a running joke that I put in there because chat rooms and alcohol and in-jokes don't mix. I, uh, removed it. >__>;


End file.
